Major Degtyarev had decided to scout ahead and sneak up on those winter-camo soldiers.
So when and how the firefight had started, he had no idea.
But the first shots rang out behind him, and—
"God, why did I bring amateurs here?!" he grunted, checking the chamber of his AK.
So far, he had counted at least twenty Monolith soldiers, and many times more corpses.
Meanwhile, he had seven men, and—
"Argh, I'm hit."
Okay. Make that six.
"I fucking told them to stay low," he gritted out, taking a quick look around.
The Duga was still a flurry of activity when they got there.
Military trucks brought in fresh troops and gear, while others left with personnel. All brand-new, which the Ukrainian Military would have needed like a breath of fresh air, but—
Who was even supplying them with all this?!
Okay, he'd figure out later.
Once the firefight was over, which didn't look great, by the way.
"Major," Sokolov shouted, firing his shotgun at a bad guy. "Still kicking, huh?"
Sure. Fucking let them all know he was here, and shout out his rank as well.
Not that these winter-camo guys seemed to care about any of that. They shot at everything and everyone at once, without even taking cover. Were they completely nuts?!
Alex found a juicy target: two soldiers setting up a heavy machinegun nest.
And he didn't have to think twice before peppering them with his Krinkov.
They both went down without a sound, and one of the truck drivers jumped out to take over their post. Again, it seemed like he didn't use a single brain cell, trying to fire that thing, but—
He was still right out in the open.
"Told you, they're like zombies," the Corporal grunted, popping up by his side now. "But they can still shoot us, so let's take them out fast."
"That's what I was trying to do, too," the Major noted, looking for another target.
And he didn't have to look for long.
He spotted a long barrel poking out from behind a rooftop, and it couldn't be more obvious.
"Sniper," he pointed up, waiting for the guy to lean out, but—
Nope. He walked straight into his line of fire, laser-focused on a faraway target.
Come on, who the hell were these guys?!
"Seems like you can have all the money in the world, you still can't buy talent," Sokolov said. And his shotgun took out another target, while the enemy didn't seem to notice them yet.
"They sure have some shiny new equipment," Alex grumbled. "But they're total amateurs."
And here he was, so worried about taking on this request.
This was like turkey-shooting. And even the rookie aircrew he rescued felt like elite soldiers.
"They're good enough to scare away most Stalkers," the Corporal noted. "But what do you think? Why would they be so desperate to restore the Brain Scorcher if they were so capable?"
Fair. And that was the last thing he couldn't confirm yet.
There were still some tanks scattered outside, but who knew how many they had hooked up in there already? If one of those idiots didn't start shooting—
"Another truck inbound," Sokolov warned. "I'm going to take care of it."
And before he could ask how he intended to do that—
The Corporal had sprinted right across the battlefield.
"Okay. Looks like these Monolith guys aren't the only stupid ones here," he grunted.
But by the time he reloaded his AK and heard the familiar shotgun blasts—
"I take that back," he muttered, watching that new truck go up in flames.
For being an aging Corporal, Sokolov was not half bad.
And to think he could have shot him in the back all this time, but didn't?!
Alex got the chills, but the fight was still far from over.
This time, the Duga personnel started firing with whatever they could find.
It seemed like they came to carry down the rest of those tanks but got caught up in the fighting. And that was exactly what the Major wanted. To stop whatever they were doing, and—
As it turned out, it was much easier to do than he had expected.
"Medic," a familiar voice cried out, as a reminder that things weren't all candy and sunshine after all. "They got me in the leg. Got me in the leg. Please, somebody, help me."
And of course, it wasn't even one of those sketchy Stalkers they brought along.
He recognized the young and eager aircrew's voice.
But, oh, well. As long as he was still alive—
Someone finally spotted him and peppered his cover with small arms fire.
"Okay, don't get cocky now," he scolded himself, trying to find the shooter.
As easy as it was to take these amateurs out, they still had the numerical advantage.
And their gear, too—
Was that a freaking RPG staring him down?!
Thank God, the whole thing exploded before that snow-camo idiot could fire it. And it wasn't even him, but that familiar shotgun blast again. He owed that Corporal at least a drink now.
Or make it two.
"Surrender, bastards, you're surrounded," a Stalker yelled. But the only response he got was some automatic fire. Good thing those idiots couldn't aim for shit, but—
Even a stray bullet could end a man's life.
And he had to catch the very moment it happened to that Stalker.
"Man down, we have a man down," someone yelled. Another aircrew?
Well, whatever. He had a grenade, and he might as well have used it.
The people emerging from the Duga were still all bunched up together. And he was within throwing distance of them, so why let that opportunity slip?
Even if they were smart enough to kick it away or disperse—
Nope. They weren't.
The explosion threw at least half a dozen men into the air, and it was not a pretty sight.
It still got the job done, and within a few more minutes, the firefight finally ended, too.
"Jesus Christ," Alex panted, inspecting the battlefield. "That was, like, what? Thirty men?"
"We lucked out," Corporal Sokolov claimed. "If they brought their fighters, we'd all be dead."
What were these guys, then?! Cannon fodder?
Ugh. The way they fought, they wouldn't even qualify as that.
"Still, who the hell started this fight?" he asked, giving a stern look to his men. "I said recon first, then we'll make a plan, but I wasn't even halfway through before someone blew our cover."
"I uh, Sir, I got a perfect shot, and—"
Yep. That green aircrew again. Now with his leg all bandaged up.
He knew it was a bad idea to bring them along, but all things considered—
They only lost one man, and five more wounded.
Actually, did that mean he and the Corporal were the only ones getting away scot-free?!
"I'll get the scientists to heal your men up, don't worry," Sokolov offered, patting the top of one of those tanks. "But you might want to take a look at these first."
And yeah. He did.
That's why he took on this request in the first place.
"Brains?" he scowled, finally seeing them from close up. "What the—"
It even pulsed as he looked at it, and he had a bad feeling.
"Matches what Strelok and the Hero of Kyiv said," the Corporal grunted. "And I'd say we destroy them all before they decide to wake up."
Yeah. He wouldn't argue with that.
To the hell with those things, and fast.